


Gun Song

by LookIntoMyTelescope



Series: Musical Interlude (AHS) [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum, American Horror Story: Cult, American Horror Story: Hotel, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins AU, Character Death, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Guns, It's for Oliver lmao, Shooting Guns, Spoilers for Hotel's finale, Triggers, a little ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookIntoMyTelescope/pseuds/LookIntoMyTelescope
Summary: A retelling of the Gun Song from Assassins, but with Sarah Paulson's characters from American Horror Story.





	Gun Song

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest shout out to my AHS group chat on Kik, Y'all helped me pick the characters for this fic, and you guys are my family.  
> If you're curious who the characters correspond with:  
> Lana Winters is Leon Czolgosz  
> Ally Mayfair-Richards is John Wilkes Booth  
> Billie Dean Howard is Charles Guiteau  
> Sally McKenna is Sarah Jane Moore
> 
> Tw: guns, death, drug use, the thought of Sarah Paulson dressed up as a 1900's blue-collar worker  
> (I do not condone the actions of the assassins, I'm just a writer give me an inch lol)

Lana looked in the mirror, fixing her lipstick one last time before she settled in Oliver’s chair. She flipped the switch attached to his wood panel walls, making the whole room darken. She cradled the gun in her lap, treating it as if it were a child she actually cared about. She picked it up, examining its barrel in the pale moonlight that shone from the window.  _ How many people got injured in factory accidents to make this? How many men never returned to their families because of guns like this?  _ She had spent her time in the asylum reading Upton Sinclair and Nelly Bly and all the other journalist who exposed the system for what it was, and she couldn’t shake the horrific memory of housing conditions in factories everytime she turned the barrel, making it click like a roulette table. She popped the barrel out one last time, its mechanical clink causing some guilt within her dark soul as she checked to make sure all the chambers were filled. She truly hated this gun, hated everything it stood for, hated all the lives it already claimed, and hated the one life it had left to claim. She dropped the gun gingerly back in its place on her thighs and rested for a bit. Oliver wouldn’t come home until 8.

 

She stirred when she heard a clatter in the kitchen across the way. Instantly her hand flew to her gun, and she stood up, turning the light on before checking the clock on the wall.  _ How could he be home already, it’s only 6:10? _ She drew her gun and drew back the hammer with a click. She snuck into the kitchen to find a cloaked figure with it’s back to her, making food on the cooktop. There was a can of Manwich and a more modern gun on the counter next to her. Her hand shook slightly as she spoke up.

 

“Excuse me, who  _ are  _ you?” She half shouted, causing the woman to turn around. It was her. Well, it wasn’t exactly Lana, her face wasn’t as emaciated and she wore considerably less makeup. Her hair was the same color, bobbed to just under her jaw. There was no expression of fear in her face, just slight annoyance from being interrupted from her cooking. She picked up the gun and pointed it at Lana, is if it was some form of greeting she was returning. Lana could see that fire, the hatred in her hard brown eyes.  _ She was a victim too _ . Lana lowered the gun. The woman turned back to the meat in the pan and began humming to herself. Lana grew confused.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Ally lowered her green hood and spoke, not turning to look at Lana. Lana didn’t matter. Revenge did.

 

“You know, all you have to do is move your little finger. Squeeze the trigger, and you’ve changed the world. Wanna get revenge on that pervert who hurt you? It’s easy. Don’t know why I didn’t kill Kai in the same way, but we all have our regrets, right?” Ally chuckled lightheartedly as she stirred the sauce.

 

Lana had no clue who Kai was, or what the hell was going on. But she somehow understood. Her anxiety eased as she spoke to the woman.

 

“Can I take your coat, Miss...?” She amiably asked, half expecting to hear the woman’s name.

 

“No, I’m good. It’s Ally. Ally Mayfair-Richards. You’ve seen my ads on TV, I hope. Vote Mayfair-Richards for Senate 2018, right?” She chuckled again, turning towards Lana. The reporter was dumbfounded at how aggressively deluded this woman was.

 

“It’s 1965, what are you on?”

The politician threw her head back in laughter, startling Lana.

 

“A tricky little drug called Revenge, Miss Winters. It makes you do crazy things, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

Lana really didn’t care at this point, she just wanted this crazy woman out of the house. She couldn’t be distracted. So she just left Ally alone and went back to her perch in the corner of the living room. Before she could sit, there was a knock at the door.

 

She ambled towards the door and looked through the peephole. Her own face was looking at her through the door. This time, the hair curling down to her chest was ash blonde. She was wearing some kind of tacky floral dress, and she held a burning cigarette in her acrylic clad hand. Lana cautiously opened the door, and Billie Dean breezed in with the heavy smell of her perfume. She looked around to meet the eyes of the other confused women in the room before she revealed that she too had a gun in her left hand, but it was significantly fancier than the industrial revolver Lana held, or the modern one Ally had returned to its place on the counter. The gun was a lighter chrome, the grip made of ivory. It was flashy on purpose. Billie Dean shot an award-nominated smile at Lana, who grimaced back. The reporter could already tell that this woman was one spoiled bitch. Billie Dean spoke.

 

“These guns are pretty amazing, right? So versatile. I mean, you-” with this she motioned to Ally.

“- saw a cult leader die because of one of these babies, and you-” she proceeded to point at Lana with the cigarette. 

“You are about to off a notorious  _ serial killer  _ with that…thing, and I’ve known a lot of killers in my day, why at the Hotel-” Billie Dean stopped suddenly, and turned to look behind her. 

 

There was a tall woman with wild hair and even wilder clothes in Oliver’s doorway, her face twisted in a snarl. Billie Dean swallowed nervously as the woman strode over towards her, capturing her chin in her dark hand. 

 

“Just because this is a dream sequence doesn’t mean I won’t kill you for mentioning the Cortez, Bitch,” Ramona growled in Billie Dean’s face. 

“I haven’t yet, I was actually going to mention the Cecil.” Billie Dean’s voice quavered as Ramona released her face, and disappeared with a slam of the door. All the women looked vaguely terrified before Billie put on that 200k smile and spoke again.

 

“I even keep this gun on me to protect me and my TV show, because of vampires that are out to murder me whenever I mention  _ certain establishments _ .” At this, she spun the barrel, and it clattered like an off-kilter roulette board as she aimed it between the two women.

 

A hoarse voice suddenly rang out from the bathroom down the hall.

“Jesus fucking Christ, who slammed the door?! Some people are trying to get high in here!”

 

Lana drew her gun for what seemed like the millionth time and kicked the door open to find a half-delirious young woman in the bathtub who took the plunger between her lipstick stained teeth and pulled it back to draw some mysterious clear liquid into a syringe.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Lana shouted, aghast at how many people shared her face. This woman was younger than the other three and had a cheetah printed coat hanging off her shoulders that were failing to cover up a dirty white teddy. Her hair was bleached and crimped to all hell, and she was splayed out against the clean white of the bathtub, her shredded fishnets completing the look of crackwhore chic nicely. The young woman looked up at her through heavily lined, blissed out eyes and chortled hoarsely. 

 

“The name’s Sally. I got a gun in my bag, but it’s too far, can you get it for me?”

Lana didn’t normally do favors for drugged up strangers in bathtubs, but there was something almost endearing about Sally. She begrudgingly took the ripped bag from its place on the counter and set it down on the edge of the bathtub. Sally took the tourniquet out of her bag and secured it around her arm. She proceeded to inject herself with the mystery substance in her heavily track-marked arm, and then carefully set the used needle down in the soap dish.

 

“Thanks. Now lemme see, I got this really great gun- Shit where is it?- down at a pawnshop on Vine, and it was on sale.” She pulled out a high heel shoe and pointed it like a gun before realizing it wasn’t one. She laughed.

“Well this ain’t it, but this was on sale too. Shit, where is that fucking gun?” She turned the bag inside out on her lap, and through the mess of glass bottles and cartons of cigarettes, she pulled out a really cheap looking gun, which fit considering its owner. 

 

“Ahh, here it is. I once used this to threaten my dealer when he tried to shortchange me some China White.” She grinned maliciously, biting back a sharp laugh at the horror on Lana’s face.

 

Sally crawled out of the bathtub with a lot of difficulties, clutching her gun in the process.

 

As she and Lana stumbled into the living room, all four women exchanged glances. As if they all knew what to do next, they pulled back the hammer and pulled the trigger in unison, aiming their guns in the air. Everyone’s gun clicked on an empty chamber, except Sally’s. Hers blew a small hole in the ceiling when it went off.

 

“Shit! I shot it.” She didn’t really look apologetic, so much as relieved she was aiming at the ceiling. Lana and Ally exchanged glances as all of them recovered from the sudden shot. Ally spoke first

 

“These can change the world.” She said, examining her modern pistol. Billie Dean nodded.

 

“You just gotta follow through, and shoot the bastards.” Billie Dean laughed, pointing her pretty gun at a photo of Thredson on the side table.

 

“Even if you fail, they still make a lotta noise.” Sally chimed in, her hoarse laugh echoing as her bullet did a few moments earlier.

 

“Takes no time at all.” Lana agreed.

 

The sound of a car coming up the driveway woke Lana up with a start. She looked at the clock.  _ It’s time. _ She smoothed down her hair, picking up her gun and aiming. Thredson came flying in through the door, clearly in a rush to gather his things and leave.

 

“In a hurry, Oliver?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me @nick-carraways-side-hoe on Tumblr, and leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.
> 
> (I realize there's a super niche audience of people who will super appreciate and enjoy this but fuck it.)


End file.
